"Merlin's beard."
Ron bent over, breathing heavily. He looked back in the direction they had fled from. The trees were no longer snapping for no apparent reason, and the soft layer of dead leaves on the ground was no longer suddenly caving in.
That meant they had finally escaped those monsters' pursuit.
As if he were about to cough up his heart, Ron kept retching. Harry, who was in slightly better physical shape, walked over and patted Ron on the back as he cast a frightened look at Hermione. "What exactly are Thestrals, Hermione? Why can't you and Ron see them?"
Hermione leaned against a beech tree. Her brown hair was plastered to her cheeks with sweat, and because they had run so fast just now, the wildly growing branches had scratched several bloody cuts across her face. Dark red blood trickled down the side of her face. "Because Ron and I have never seen death—"
Hermione wiped her face, making herself look even more bedraggled. She looked back at Harry, knowing he did not understand. After trying to calm her ragged breathing, she continued, "Thestrals are magical creatures. Only people who have witnessed death can see them, Harry."
"Witnessed death."
Harry repeated the words in slight confusion. Then he suddenly remembered the graveyard where Voldemort had returned, Karkaroff, who had been torn to pieces by dozens of Cruciatus Curses, and Barty Crouch's tragic suicide.
Then Harry understood. Hermione and Ron had both been unconscious when Karkaroff and Old Barty died, so only he could see the Thestrals.
"—Tamed Thestrals make excellent mounts. They're gentle, and they have an exceptional sense of direction. Just tell them where you want to go, and they can take you anywhere."
"Gentle?!"
Ron shrieked.
"Those monsters were trying to kill us just now!"
"I